Groupie
by 26hannah26
Summary: B/B AU oneshot. It's the early 90s, and Seattle college students Angela and Tempe head to a club to scope out a rather sexy grunge guitarist... COMPLETE!


A/N Howdy folks! This is another little piece I've had on my laptop for a while. I don't know how this came about, but it probably has something to do with my undying love for grunge music and hot guitarists. But this is a totally self-indulgent one-shot, set in the 90s, featuring everything I loved about the decade (even Doc Martins). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (And is it sad that I haven't been able to say that about writing for a while?)

* * *

><p>Tempe sighed as she left her dorm building, pulling the front door shut behind her. How had she managed to get talked into this? Angela – that was how. And, speak of the devil, there she was now, leaning casually against a lamppost on the corner of the street. Girls had been arrested for less in this part of Seattle, but Angie was well known for being able to talk herself out of, and in to, any situation. That was how she came to be there right now, ready to practically drag her best friend downtown with her.<p>

"I thought I'd have to come in there and get you." As Tempe got closer to her, she was quickly wrapped in a hug. "You ready?"

"Aren't you a little underdressed?"

"Aren't you a little _over_dressed?"

"I don't think so." She looked down and surveyed her outfit – her favourite pair of jeans, neatly pressed, a red button down shirt and a brown leather jacket that she could barely afford on her meagre part-timer salary from the coffee house. Admittedly, compared to Angela's denim mini-skirt and cut-off tank top, she was perhaps a little overdressed.

"At least pop the top button on that shirt, please?"

Tempe sighed and did as she was told, conscious that she already felt like a fish out of the bowl (was that the right idiom?) and that she was more than a little worried about what might happen tonight. "Angela, I'm not sure that this is a good idea…"

"Of course it is, Sweetie, and it's absolutely vital to your development. You're twenty years old and you've never even been to a bar! You've got to get out of that tiny dorm room sometimes! And I don't mean just for classes…"

Tempe looked offended and began to protest. "I go out!"

"Where?"

She had to admit, Angela's argument wasn't entirely baseless. "The library. Coffee shops. The movies, occasionally."

"Don't you ever do anything fun?"

"I find that 'fun' is a subjective term."

"Just trust me, Brennan. Tonight, I'm going to educate you more than any of your professors ever will!"

* * *

><p>Stepping into the entrance of the club, Tempe was hit by two things – how dark it was, and how hot it was; so hot she could already feel the sweat making her skin sticky. Peering further inside over Angela's shoulder, it wasn't what she had imagined at all, and it definitely wasn't like the nightclubs she had seen on TV – no flashing strobe lights or lasers, no thumping techno music, and to be fair to them, the patrons here weren't the typical teens with model looks and high-quality fake IDs like on <em>90210<em>. The walls of the narrow hallway were plastered with old worn posters promoting concerts from decades ago and album covers from bands she had never even heard of.

She watched as Angela slipped their cover to the heavily tattooed bouncer on the door, and was surprised when she exchanged a greeting with him that implied that she knew him quite well. "You've been here before?" she asked over the noise of the crowd behind and in front of her, jostling to get further towards the bowels of the club, which was down a flight of stairs.

"Yeah, I come here all the time! I'm like part of the family – I even know why they call it 'The Meat Locker'."

"And why is that?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Now come on, I don't want to lose you in the throng!"

They pushed their way down the stairs and claimed a vacant spot by the bar, ready to begin a fight to get heard above everyone else to put their drink orders in, Tempe assumed. Suddenly, she heard her normally cool friend let out a high-pitched squeal.

"Oh! I love these guys!" she said, and Tempe turned to look where she was pointing, noticing her eyes wide with excitement.

Over on the small stage at the far side of the room, a band was setting up their instruments. A crowd of eager girls much younger than her was already gathering in front of them, vying for their attention. "Are they famous?" she asked, wondering what a big name band would be doing in a place like this.

"Only in this town. But they should totally be world-famous. They rock!"

"They do?"

"You'll see." She took her eyes off the men and tried again to get the bartender to look her way.

"What'll it be?" he finally asked with obvious disinterest.

"Get me a Bud. Bren?"

"Oh, uh… I'll have a Shirley Temple, please."

"A what?" he asked, raising a pierced eyebrow.

"She'll have a vodka and Coke… Heavy on the Coke," Angela said, looking her friend over momentarily before sliding some money over the bar. "You don't drink either?"

"I told you this was a bad idea. Maybe I should just go…"

Angela took her by the arm and began to lead her towards the stage. "No. You are going to drink your drink and listen to these guys play some awesome music, and you're going to have a good time, OK?"

"What sort of music do they play?"

Angela looked at her suspiciously, taking her time before she answered. "What sort of music do you like?"

"Um… I guess I like Alanis Morissette. And Dave Matthews. Oh, and there's this new band called No Doubt that I really like; their music is a little out there though! Have you heard of them?"

Angela rolled her eyes and pretended to vomit. "Yeah, I've heard of No Doubt. God, Gwen Stefani is _such_ a poser, I give them a month and then she'll be working in McDonalds where she belongs. _Posers_."

Tempe was a little shocked by Angela's sudden passionate rant. She'd only ever heard her talk so animatedly about art. She had no idea she liked music so much. "Well, what do you listen to?"

"You ever heard of grunge?"

"No. They must be a new band."

"Sweetie, grunge isn't a band, it's a genre." She took a swig of her beer and shook her head. "No, scratch that – grunge is _more_ than a genre, it's a movement – a way of _being_. I told you I was going to educate you tonight!"

"Are they grunge?" Tempe asked, nodding towards the band onstage that was now just finishing tuning up. Being closer to them, she could see what they looked like, even though the lights weren't on yet – what she presumed was the drummer was putting tape around his hands at the back of the stage, while a guitarist and bassist off to one side were talking and making precise turns of the knobs on their amps. At the front of the stage, semi-illuminated by the house lights, was a tall man with a guitar slung over his shoulder, taking a long sip of water before tossing the half-empty bottle to a girl down at the front of the crowd. Tempe heard her squeal and watched as the guitarist laughed with a bemused expression on his face. He didn't really look like his band mates – he had the shoulder-length shaggy hair and the baggy shorts like they did, but there was something else about him… His posture was better, for one thing, and under all that hair he seemed to her to be quite aesthetically pleasing – she could see now why all those girls were fawning over him.

"They _epitomise_ grunge. God, they are all so hot…"

Tempe was confused by the look on Angela's face, and so looked back at the attractive guitarist, but he had left the stage. The crowd were now becoming restless, and some drunken men at the back of the room were chanting something to the effect of 'we want the show'. Attractive Guitarist came back out with a cigarette between his lips as the lead singer approached the microphone, standing in front of it awkwardly while he scratched his head.

"We're Inside Job," he began in a gravelly whisper, and the crowd went wild. Tempe and Angela were pushed closer together as everyone surged forward. "This song's called 'Empty Summer Social'."

Everyone cheered again, jumping around as Attractive Guitarist played the opening riff. Tempe hadn't seen anything like this before in her life – she wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the heat , or the pounding of the drums and bass resounding inside her head, but this man was doing things to her that she couldn't comprehend. If he was God, she would believe. And Angela was definitely right about him being hot – she had never described anyone that way before, but to her, he was the physical embodiment of what hot meant. She was scared of this unfamiliar feeling, but more than anything, she knew she was becoming addicted to it.

"They're really good!" she practically screamed, trying to get Angela to hear her over the roar of the music.

"I thought you said you like Dave Matthews?"

"I do!" she replied, not understanding what Angela was implying about her taste in music.

* * *

><p>By the end of Inside Job's set, Attractive Guitarist had removed his 'pro-choice' t-shirt and proceeded to play shirtless, much to the joy of the girls at his feet. The band then left the stage, and a lot of people at the back of the club had taken that as their cue to head home. Despite that, when Angela looked over at her friend, she saw that she was still watching with the same captivated expression she had for every song that they had just listened to.<p>

"Close your mouth, Sweetie," Angela joked, poking Tempe in the shoulder.

"You weren't kidding, were you?"

"About what?"

"All of it! This is the most intense thing I've ever experienced!"

"Yeah, I didn't think you got out much."

"I'm serious! It's a complete scientific fallacy, but I can practically feel the energy in the room. It's just so…"

Angela smiled serenely and nodded, giving her a knowing look. "It's kinda like sex, right?"

"Um… Sure."

"Oh, Brennan. I thought I had achieved so much tonight, but I obviously have _much_ more to teach you."

* * *

><p>Tempe had been sure that all of the girls crowding the front of the stage had left to go back to the dorms or to sneak back into the bedrooms they had absconded from without their parents' knowledge, but she was surprised to find them congregating around the back door of the club.<p>

"What's going on?" she asked Angela as the two of them joined the hordes of teenagers jostling for position in the alley.

"We're waiting for the band," Angela replied conspiratorially, pulling her friend closer to the door.

"Do you want their autograph?"

"Something like that…"

Before she could ask what that meant, Tempe was being pushed in all directions as light from inside the club spilled out of the now open back door. She landed with a hard thud in a pile of something that smelled suspiciously like the bathrooms back on campus. Angela had reached out for her hand as she fell, but her sweaty palms slipped from her grasp as there was a stampede towards the band. She shut her eyes as the hysterical screaming around her became louder, and instinctively curled into a ball as multiple pairs of Doc Martins made contact with her body.

Tempe could faintly hear Angela calling her name over the sound of the scuffle, then felt a strong hand grab her by the upper arm and pull her towards the light of the doorway.

"Are you OK?" a voice asked from somewhere

She still had her eyes squeezed shut and her hands over her face when she realised she was back inside the club – the commotion was muffled now – and once she could see again she assumed she was somewhere behind the stage she had just spent the whole night in front of. She recognised the bouncer from earlier, who was now pushing the teenage girls back into the alley and shutting the door on them.

"Can you hear me?" the voice asked, louder this time, and she looked up into the face of Attractive Guitarist, realising that her nickname for him was even more apropos up close. Attractive was definitely an understatement, she thought, as she looked into his deep brown eyes, mouth agape. "I guess that's a no, then?"

"What?"

He frowned slightly, then broke into a wide grin. "Can you hear me?"

"Your music is very loud," she replied when she realised that, yes, she could hear him, but not as well as she had hoped. She still felt a shiver when he spoke, though.

"We try. Is your head alright?"

She was about to tell him she often made little sense and that that was a classic example of her social awkwardness, when she realised that something warm was trickling down her forehead – that must have been what he was referring to. She winced as she brought her hand to the source and found that she was bleeding.

"Did someone kick me in the head?" she asked, sounding shocked – if this was the sort of thing that regularly happened in these kinds of places, she had been sensible staying at the dorm.

"Groupies can be vicious," he replied with a shrug, offering her a balled up tissue from the pocket of his shorts. She felt her cheeks burn as her fingers brushed against his when she took it from him, but he apparently didn't feel the same thing as he turned to the bouncer. "Have you got a first aid kit back here, Brent?"

"There's one behind the bar." As he walked past them, he winked at Tempe. "You look like you could use a drink."

Attractive Guitarist laughed as Brent walked through a side door back into the club, and then they were alone backstage. She stared at her feet as she felt his eyes on her.

"Your band is probably waiting for you. I can put a Band-Aid on this myself, you don't have to stay."

"I feel a little responsible. I like to think at least one of those girls was out there waiting for me…" he said, punctuating his sentence with one of the most alluring laughs she had ever heard.

"Are you not worried that I'm a groupie who was waiting for you?"

"No offence, but you don't really seem the type."

"What gave me away?" she asked, feeling a little embarrassed that he had figured her out so quickly.

"You haven't tried to steal a lock of my hair or have me sign your boobs yet."

She laughed, relieved that he didn't seem to think she was anything other than a normal college girl with a minor head injury. They both stood smiling at each other until they heard Brent coming back to them, followed by someone else.

"Look who I found outside," he said, as he led Angela through the side door and handed over the first aid kit.

"Oh my God, Sweetie, you have no idea how worried I wa… Holy crap, it's you!" she squealed, her eyes widening at the sight of Attractive Guitarist. She quickly recovered from her outburst and gave him a sultry look. "I mean, thanks for looking after my friend, she doesn't get out much. You guys played a great set tonight, though."

"Thanks," he replied, giving Tempe a look that she knew meant 'groupie', and went back to taking a Band-Aid out of its wrapper for her. "Sorry if this hurts a little bit."

As he gently pressed the adhesive against her skin, she felt her face flush again, and found herself thinking about how skilled his hands were, most likely from his years of playing the guitar. At the sudden realisation of the implications of such a thought, she thought all of the blood in her body must have rushed to her head. And did he just _wink_ at her? It took every ounce of self-control she had to drag her eyes away from his and over to Angela, who appeared to be scowling at her. This night was most definitely not turning out as she had anticipated.

"All done." Attractive Guitarist smiled, taking his tissue back from her and tossing it into a trashcan. "I should probably get going."

"The rest of the guys are waiting for you in the van," Brent said, met with some resistance as he steered him towards the door. "I'll walk you out, no doubt some of those leaches are still out there."

"Thank you," Tempe managed to squeak out as he opened the door. "For the Band-Aid. And pulling me out of there."

"Not a problem." He turned to walk out into a slightly less crowded alley, but paused and looked back over his shoulder at her, and once again she saw what all those other girls saw as they looked up at him on stage. "I don't think I ever asked your name?"

She fumbled for a split second, unsure of not only her name, but everything she thought she had known about herself before tonight. And once she had remembered who she was, she almost couldn't get the word out. "Temperance," she whispered.

"It was awesome meeting you, Temperance. I'm Seeley."

And with that, he was gone.

A/N2 Just for anyone who is interested, the band are based on Pearl Jam (their fictional band name is the title of a PJ song). No offence to the DMB fans out there, I'm partial to a couple of Dave Matthews songs. And Angela was totally wrong about Gwen Stefani , who I have nothing against personally – No Doubt have a new album coming out soon!


End file.
